Murder in Three Acts

This is one of Agatha Christie's 'magic trick' books, written to make the reader look anywhere except where they should be looking. Like all magic tricks, it's only fun if the magician has charisma and a good line of patter and you can't see the wires or, better yet, are so engrossed in the trick that you don't want to look for them.

Christie, of course, is a master magician and kept me entertained throughout.

I was less interested in the puzzle - who killed whom and how and why - than in the way the story was presented and the characters who populated it. I rather liked that Poirot spent most of the novel off-stage. I liked it even more when I found out why he was absent. I think it shows the elegance of Christie's design that having show more Poirot off-stage kept the storytelling fresh by allowing other characters to come to the fore, allowed the action to take place in multiple locations and saved us from Poirot's endless references to little grey cells and method, while also being a key structural element in the execution of the conceit at the heart of the magic trick.

The beginning of the story, where Christie assembles and introduces the cast of potential victims and suspects, creaks a little, but she lubricates it by having the exposition done by three male characters, two of whom have known one another from childhood and one, Satterthwaite who is an outsider but an astute and compulsive observer and assessor of people. This gave the whole story more texture. Having Satterthwaite, described as an 'old Victorian', lead us through the relationships between the parties is clever as it gives the leading lady 'Egg' a context beyond energetic ingenue.

As the story progresses, Satterthwaite becomes the main pair of eyes through which we see the action. I liked that he was so different from Hastings: astute, secretive, insightful and immune to the charms of young women while being fully sensitive to how those charms are being used. His quiet curiosity lifted the tone of the book for me.

The two other main characters. Cartwright, a revered (especially by himself) and rich actor in his mid-fifties and Egg, a twenty-something daughter of impoverished gentlefolk and equipped with the boundless energy of the young and the unquestioning self-confidence of the cherished were the main sources of both the charisma and the humour that kept the magic act running along.

I can't say that I liked either of them but I believed in both of them. If I didn't know that this book was published twenty-six years before he was born, I'd have sworn that Christie had based Cartwright on Kenneth Branagh. I struggled a little with Egg. I could see I was supposed to like her, I just couldn't see why. She is ruthless and dishonest in her pursuit of Cartwright and she habitually manipulates the men around her (which is largely their fault for letting her get away with it).

The pair also surfaced my own prejudices with regard to age-gap couples. Actually, this isn't a gap, it's a chasm. It's the Grand Canyon of age differences. it's a difference of three decades. I just can't make myself see that as anything but a consensual delusion. So I rather liked that Christie didn't try to sell it, she just put it out there as part of the routine of the magic trick. What magic trick would be complete without the pretty young assistant to distract and entertain the audience?

I was impressed by the mechanics behind this magic trick. It's a very clever puzzle. So challenging that no solution seems possible yet, when the solution is furnished, everything makes sense.

My enjoyment of the book was increased by its quiet humour. I loved the scene where Poirot, who was born poor and is now rich and successful, is confronted by his own ennui when, looking out over the Mediterranean from Monte Carlo, he hears a bored child say to its mother. "I've looked at the sea Mummy. What do I do now?" and realises that he has no answer to that question.

This was an entertaining quick read if you're in the mood to be dazzled by Christie's cleverness and distracted by the foibles of the rich, leisured and self-absorbed who live lives untroubled by the collapsing economy of England in the 1930s. show less

Easily recognizable as Agatha Christie, even before Poirot shows up. She has a style that is her own, and it is quaintly charming. It is fun to pit your wits against her, and in this case, I had her murderer sussed before the murder happened, though she did lead me through enough twists and turns that I doubted it. I only found one other truly plausible suspect, and there were too many things that didn't fit. Overall, a quick, enjoyable read when you feel like an escape from the real world.

"Am I being a complete fanciful ass, or does this business remind you of—of—?’ ‘Of that business at Loomouth? Yes, it does. But of course we may be mistaken. The resemblance may be only superficial. After all, sudden deaths occur the whole time from a variety of causes.’ "


Really, the whole time? Of course they do ... but only if you are a protagonist in an Agatha Christie mystery. And after re-reading Three Act Tragedy very, very slowly this time so I wouldn't miss anything, I was so drawn into the story I felt like a member of the sleuthing party. And what a party it was!

This - in my book - is one of Christie's best stories. Partly because this is the first one of hers I ever read, and because it is one of the stories where show more all the clues are there and it is just so much fun piecing them all together.

I should have spelled "fun" in capital letters just there: FUN because the characters are brilliantly intricate and engage in some quite flippant and down-to earth (well, compared to some of Christie's other characters the cast of Three Act Tragedy is surprisingly and ironically unpretentious) dialogue -

some progressing the line of investigation

"Where’s the body? There’s twelve stone or so of solid butler to be accounted for."

much more than others:

"Mr Satterthwaite glanced over at Mrs Babbington, who was talking earnestly to Sir Charles on the subject of manure."

And of course it is "FUN" because not only do we get to enjoy the superb performance(s) of Sir Charles Cartwright, but we also get to catch up with another fellow.

"The fellow is the most conceited little devil I ever met.’ Mr Satterthwaite’s eyes twinkled. He had always been of the opinion that the vainest men in creation were actors. He did not exempt Sir Charles Cartwright. This instance of the pot calling the kettle black amused him. ‘Who is the egoist?’ he asked."

Yes, you guessed it - Hercule Poirot of whom we learn that:

" ‘That events come to people—not people to events. Why do some people have exciting lives and other people dull ones? Because of their surroundings? Not at all. One man may travel to the ends of the earth and nothing will happen to him. There will be a massacre a week before he arrives, and an earthquake the day after he leaves, and the boat that he nearly took will be shipwrecked. And another man may live at Balham and travel to the City every day, and things will happen to him. He will be mixed up with blackmailing gangs and beautiful girls and motor bandits. There are people with a tendency to shipwrecks—even if they go on a boat on an ornamental lake something will happen to it. In the same way men like your Hercule Poirot don’t have to look for crime—it comes to them.’ "

I must confess I first found the idea of re-reading Three Act Tragedy a little unsettling. What if I didn't like the book the same as when I first read it? What if my nostalgia for the story tainted my impression of how good a read it was?

Well, it turned out the re-read did not take away any of my appreciation of the story.
And even if it had, the worst that could be said about it is that if a reader
"was fond of mysteries, and he liked observing human nature, and he had a soft spot for lovers. All three tastes seemed likely to be gratified in this affair."*

*Obviously for "he" read "he or she". show less

The more I read Agatha Christie's mysteries the more I like them. It seems like with every new volume there's an extra something that makes them more than just an engaging riddle. Either I'm reading the books with a more pronounced human element or I'm just noticing it more and somehow I'm inclined to think that it is the latter.
I really liked Mr. Satterthwaite, the intelligent little man with an absolutely unpronounceable name and a way with people. The Lytton Gore ladies were my "human element" here introducing the subject of being able to see people for who they really are and not in the way Poirot does it. They made mistakes sometimes, sure, but their perceptions felt warm and uncalculating. I liked these characters more than the show more rest particularly because we learned more about them as people than we did about any of the others and that is really my only gripe - the rest of the cast are barely fleshed out and I wish we knew a little more about them.
Of course I didn't figure out who the culprit was even though I suspected everyone. It almost detracted from the story, this constant watchfulness, attentiveness to every word and trying to see in what way it could be a clue, whether it could be a clue. I really need to turn off that part of my brain next time and just enjoy the story. Learn from my mistakes, my friends! show less

“In all the world there is nothing so curious and so interesting and so beautiful as truth.”

I accidentally read this one before [b:Murder on the Orient Express|853510|Murder on the Orient Express (Hercule Poirot, #10)|Agatha Christie|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1486131451l/853510._SY75_.jpg|2285570] (because, as a reread, it wasn't on my to-read list), and maybe this would be less impressive after that better-known title, but clearly Dame Christie hit her stride in the mid-1930s.

[b:Thirteen at Dinner|121651|Thirteen at Dinner|Agatha Christie|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1597006899l/121651._SY75_.jpg|2313455] is the American title of the last Poirot show more novel I read, but it would be more applicable to this one, which features two dinner parties which run the risk of having thirteen members. Whether the unlucky number is invoked or not, people will die.

Hercule Poirot is a guest at the first dinner party, but other than that, he's barely in the first half of the novel. This is actually an asset, as it allows his British counterpart, socialite Mr. Satterthwaite (who previously appeared in [b:The Mysterious Mr. Quin|16356|The Mysterious Mr. Quin (Harley Quin, #1)|Agatha Christie|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1476892657l/16356._SY75_.jpg|18056]), his actor friend Sir Charles Cartwright, and Cartwright's young admirer Hermione "Egg" Lytton Gore to play amateur detectives.

When a well-liked vicar drops dead at the first party, almost everyone believes natural causes were to blame, but when someone else dies in a similar manner at another party where many of the same guests are present, it all looks more suspicious. But who would have wanted both victims dead? And how did they commit murder without leaving a trace? Can Satterthwaite and friends solve the crime before the self-described "world's best detective" steps in?

Solution: It was Sir Charles Cartwright, who poisoned a random cup at his own party just to test things out. When the poison and the cup switch work (on poor Reverend Babbington), he knows it will work to murder his childhood friend, Dr. Bartholomew Strange. He poses as a temporary butler for Strange, then lures his romantic rival, Oliver Manders, to the party to frame him. The night of the murder, the butler disappears, but no one suspects his real identity. Thanks to a very observant, dowdy playwright, Poirot puts the pieces together. Cartwright seems to have a mental illness that makes him unable to draw a line between acting and reality, but was cognizant enough to fear Dr. Strange knew and was going to have him committed. And thanks to the meddling of Satterthwaite and Poirot, "Egg" and Oliver will live happily ever after.

Mr. Satterthwaite looked cheered. Suddenly an idea struck him. His jaw fell. "My goodness," he cried, "I've only just realized it! That rascal, with his poisoned cocktail! Anyone might have drunk it! It might have been me!"
"There is an even more terrible possibility that you have not considered," said Poirot.
"Eh?"
"It might have been me," said Hercule Poirot.
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Maybe this is not one of the masterpieces of the Queen of Crime, but I found this book a very entertaining reading, and in a small way it doesn't lack a touch of genius. Memorable then the final sentence, unfortunately super spoiler, but the thing I remembered best from my first reading, and which highlights the character of my beloved Poirot in the best possible way!

Un romanzo molto divertente da leggere, con strizzatine d’occhio al lettore a non finire, sapientemente orchestrato dall’autrice che anche in questi romanzi meno famosi dei suoi grandi classici riesce sempre ad inserire un tocco di genialità. Memorabile poi la frase finale, purtroppo molto spoiler, ma la cosa che ricordavo meglio dalla mia prima lettura, e che mette in show more risalto al meglio il carattere del caro Poirot!
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodileggere/21859 show less

A renowned but retired British actor throws a dinner party at his country home, where the village vicar unexpectedly drops dead. Was it ... murder?! No one seems to think so except the actor, his friend Satterthwaite ("A dried-up little pipkin of a man"), and the actor's erstwhile young lover, Miss Hermione Lytton Gore (Egg to you, if you please). Even Hercule Poirot, who was a guest at the party, pooh-poohs the idea.

But when one of the other guests at that party, a nerve doctor named Strange, throws his own dinner party with more or less the same guest list back in London some months later, another death occurs and suddenly no one is pooh-poohing anything, least of all Poirot.

Another twisty plot from the queen of twisty plots, as the show more spotlight of suspicion falls plausibly on one after another of the characters. Poirot's part is seemingly minor, except that he is the one in the end who solves the seemingly unsolvable mystery. Additional kudos to Dame Agatha for structuring a mystery involving denizens of the theater scene as a play: Act One, the first murder; Act Two, the second murder and the amateur investigation; Act Three, the unmasking of the murderer. Or, as she says in the mock Production Notes at the beginning, Illumination by Hercule Poirot. Bravo! show less